A Matter of Diplomacy
by NushiKasai
Summary: After a string of attacks across Western Middle Earth leaves the Shire and many other places endangered, Bilbo is sent to represent the hobbits in a council of the main races- a council in Erebor. Political tensions, assassination plots and complicated courting rituals wasn't exactly what Bilbo had in mind when he thought of returning to Erebor... Bagginshield.
1. The Arrival

The party of horses slowed as they approached their destination. At the front, four tall men sat proudly as they surveyed the upcoming surroundings with keen eyes. At the back were two elves- both of Rivendell- and they remained silent- as they had for most of the journey. In the middle, there sat a hobbit.

Not a suspicious, well-to-do hobbit, who sat beside his hearth and nursed his feet after a day of gardening. No, this hobbit was a Took- and any Halfling of the Shire knew that they weren't quite the same as everyone else. They preferred…_adventures_.

However, this particular hobbit, Bilbo Baggins, was quite fed up with his current adventure. After the Battle of Five Armies- which his dear friends had only just managed to survive through- Bilbo had sought to return to his home for some time, as he yearned for the quiet life the Shire granted. Indeed, upon his arrival to Bag End- after shooing out those bothersome Sackville-Bagginses that had decided to take up the hole- he was given a full annual's rest.

Now, on his horse, he turned to face his companions- the elves and the men who had kept to themselves for most of their journey- he was reminded of just why he had set out once more from his beloved home.

Or, what was left of his beloved home.

After the anniversary of his return to Bag-End, the Shire was, for the first time in generations, attacked.

A Winged Drake has descended down into the Shire- and many could not believe their eyes, for as long as hobbits had inhabited the area, no drakes had ever found them- and began to obliterate and hunt anything in sight. The scene had been terrifying, but surreal. At the time, Bilbo could only watch in terror as the beast crashed into the Hill and threw anything of a considerable side- such as trees, carts- at people, animals and even doors to the hobbit holes.

Hobbiton had not been the only place to suffer such an attack. Stories of that night were scattered all across the Shire; stories of loved ones who did not survive and of wrecked homes that would take months to repair. Bilbo himself found that Bag End was not so…intact after the attack; the door had been ripped off of its hinges and the some of the supporting beams of the hole were collapsed- the rest were teetering dangerously.

Nobody was going to make him live there until it was back to normal.

Thankfully, he didn't have to.

"We're almost there!" Snapping Bilbo out of his thoughts, the hobbit saw that the man at the very front of the party was pointing towards the not-too-distant destination of theirs. Turning around on his horse, the man who was leading them flashed them an eager grin. "Be great to settle down for a bit, eh?"

He received nods and small grunts of agreement, but nobody was in the greatest mood to speak to anyone- not after nine long hours of non-stop riding. Bilbo's upper thighs ached from the recent exertion, and he wistfully remembered making (about the same) journey with a company of dwarves. They'd been prepared for pony rides, and so when Bilbo's thighs were in agony, Oin had supplied him with a special balm that eased the stiffness and pain. What he wouldn't do for some of that now… He frowned and looked at the man at the front, who had resumed his silent watching of the terrain.

"How far off are we, Master Othilion?" The other man- Bilbo remembered his name to be Alcar- asked his companion loud enough for the group to overhear. Othilion, who was of Gondor heritage and had been raised with the measurements of men, spoke a quick number and measurement that the hobbit did not quite understand. Fortunately, Alcar had anticipated this, and spoke swiftly over his shoulder. "It should take us another hour to reach the city."

Bilbo breathed a sigh of relief. Soon, he thought, soon I will be able to sit down on something that will not be bouncing me up and down like a ragdoll and leave me aching in the lower parts of my body.

A flush rose to his cheeks as he considered how his thoughts could be taken two…very different ways. He cleared his throat loudly- and waved off any concerned glances- and sat a little bit straighter as he gazed into the distance, where their destination awaited.

Erebor.

Bilbo had been among a group of hobbits that had travelled to Bree after the attack on the Shire and they soon realised that they were not unique. Four other major locations had also suffered from a dragon; Rivendell- which Bilbo's heart ached to hear, as he had loved the serenity of the elven city- had managed to fight off the dragon and did not suffer as much as the men. Both Gondor and Rohan had stories scattered through their domain of death and destruction- their kings had been at council and were distracted when the dragon hit.

The final location to have suffered was the Dwarven holds in the Blue Mountains. They had, perhaps, had the best defence against the drake- as the holds had been modified by the refugees of Erebor and were strengthened against external force- but they still had earned a deal of damage.

And so it led to the little party now travelling to Erebor. Two representatives- or in the Shire's case, one- from each of the attacked provinces were to travel to the agreed destination- Erebor had been decided to be the safest and most experienced in the matter- to discuss in council the next best course of action.

Bilbo, being the only hobbit that was willing to leave the Shire and also had been to Erebor before, was the obvious choice of representative. Luckily for Bag End, Bilbo still had friends amongst the Tooks, and they had agreed to help with the clean-up. Everyone in Hobbiton had grown a little closer in the time of strife.

Rivendell had been the meeting place of the party, and Gandalf and two dwarves of the Blue Mountains had escorted the young hobbit to the elven city- for there was no chance that Bilbo would remember it very well- and then the wizard had wandered off with his own business.

The hobbit had been the first to arrive- for he had the shortest journey. There, he met the chosen elven companions: Lindir and Nolofinwë of Rivendell. They were welcoming, and shared their stories of the dragon attack solemnly to him.

Days passed until the next of the party arrived. Riding smoothly into Rivendell were Eofor and Cenric of Rohan; their bodies weary and welcoming of the accommodation that the elven city provided. They attempted to conceal their curiosity of Bilbo- for they thought it rude- but they were nonetheless warm to him as a council member. He had suffered as much as they, and so they treated him as any other being in a situation similar to them.

Finally, after another few nights, the final members of the council rode into the elven city (the dwarves of the Blue Mountains had gone ahead without them; refusing to be with elves). Tall and proud were Othilion and Alcar, and they openly displayed their curiosity for Bilbo. They constantly asked him about the Shire, and about his people; they wanted to know whether he could wield a sword, or shot an arrow. Despite this, they were kind- but certainly not averse to mocking him for his height.

They had set off the next day with a large accompanying party of elves for extra protection- though the men had originally argued profusely for the sake of their own pride. Riding uneventfully through the same path that Bilbo had once trod on was extremely nostalgic and sparked excitement in the hobbit's heart- for he knew that he would soon be reunited with his dwarven friends.

Their accompanying Elves had been left at Mirkwood, where they would rest before returning home, and the party of seven had continued with the last leg of the journey.

Now, as Erebor grew closer and closer with every minute, he sighed a breath of relief and bliss. He would be allowed rest- he was sure it would be insisted upon- and would be supplied with properly cooked, warm food. Oh, how he longed for a well-cooked stew…He'd have to make a request.

Bilbo was eager to see everyone- even the mischievous Durin brothers- but he was nervous for his purpose at Erebor. He was a hobbit of the Shire, and now he was a representative of his people! He'd thought that this sort of job would be reserved for someone much more important than he. True, he was born of two very influential families of the Shire, but he'd never considered himself very influential.

Now, he'd be calling the orders for his people! He hoped wouldn't make a dire mistake- but hopefully, Thorin would aid him.

Thorin.

The Dwarven king and his nephews had, of course, been injured at the Battle of Five Armies, but had thankfully survived the near-fatal wounds. Bilbo himself had overseen the healing processes- as Gandalf had supplied him with numerous healing papers from an unknown but obviously great library to the south. When it was apparent that he was no longer needed, he'd taken his leave; with the notion to fully return some day.

Today was that day.

* * *

Things had definitely received an upgrade in Dale. Riding through the city- never stopping though, not when their destination was now so close- the hobbit was assaulted by the array of scents that went straight to him hungry stomach.

He was tempted to call for a rest, but he was determined to not be a bother. Instead he swallowed down his hunger and focused on Erebor; the great front doors, statues and balconies now visible in the mountain.

They finally, after a long arduous trek, the party had reached their destination: The great dwarven city of Erebor. Rising tall, the great doors overwhelmed Bilbo, and as the group rode between the intricately carved statues and stood directly in front of the entrance, the hobbit could not quite crane his neck far enough back to see the very top of the doors.

Earlier, as they had approached, Bilbo had seen the glint of the armour of the ready guards who stood tall at the balconies above the doors. The view would undoubtedly be extremely beneficial for archers in a battle- not that the hobbit was in any rush to see another of those any time soon.

From where they stood patiently before the entrance, they were able to hear shouts above them; calls of 'open the doors!' were easily distinguishable from the din far over their heads. After a few more moments of waiting, a giant creak ran through the doors before them.

Slowly the force and strength of the dwarves swung open the giant doors, and the interior was revealed to the party, who began to dismount their horses- or pony, in the hobbit's case.

Bilbo leapt down from the saddle, and winced as the pain of riding caught up to him. He'd have to find a healer for some ointment for his thighs that were aching miserably. His toes wiggled excitedly against the hard but still grassy earth as two dwarven escorts gestured for them to hurry inside. The party followed along; leading their horses a few extra paces before various helpers took them down a nearby corridor that presumably led to the stables.

"We're taking you to see the King," one of their escorts informed them with a polite nod, "The first council will take place tomorrow."

The rest of the party seemed perfectly okay with this- even the elves, who had been getting suspicious glances thrown at them since they'd passed by Dale- but Bilbo sorely wished that they would have been given a chance to bathe and clean themselves a little bit before seeing Thorin. The hobbit himself was covered in dust, mud and must have been rather smelly, though no-one had passed any judgement- which he was quite thankful for.

As they walked, Bilbo openly gaped in awe of the architecture of the great city; deep in the heart of the mountain, there were countless paths crisscrossing on different levels- each one leading to an entirely separate location- and if one strained their eyes when gazing down, they would see the lights at the bottom of the mountain. Bilbo could hear the faint tinkering of the miners toiling at the walls far below where he stood.

They swerved off to one side, and walked on one corridor that had countless rooms on each side, and then they endured great stairs, and more levels…and more stairs and corridors. Bilbo was feeling quite dizzy by the time they reached the final flight of stairs and knew that he would need assistance wherever he went in this labyrinth-like city.

"We're almost at the throne room," their escorts told them, seemingly unaffected by the walk they'd just led them on. "Introduce yourselves by your land and he will then show you to your assigned quarters."

"We aren't all staying in the one place?" Bilbo asked in confusion, casting a look to his companions. The escort laughed aloud at the question.

"Elves and dwarves in the one place?" The escort scoffed at the very thought. "Do you want to clean that mess up?" They then lapsed into silence, and Bilbo once more cursed the rivalry between the two races, but pushed the thought aside for the time being.

The hobbit stepped onto the final walkway as the party was led forward onto the open level, and he breathed a sigh of relief at the sight he was greeted with. The centrepiece of the room was the throne situation on a pedestal with shining jewels decorating the armrests and back.

Seated on this throne, with a well-deserved crown atop his head, was Thorin Oakenshield.

Upon the party's entrance, the king raised his sharp eyes to meet them- though they softened slightly when seeing the hobbit. The group approached, and Bilbo smiled briefly at the two mischievous nephews of the king, who stood on each side of their uncle- representing that they were his heirs.

Remembering what the escorts had told them to do, the Gondorians moved forward first- as they were the boldest of the party. The two men stepped forward a few paces while the rest of group remained behind.

"Hail, Thorin son of Thrain," Othilion, who was their unofficial speaker, bowed slightly to the seated dwarf, "King under the Mountain. My cousin, Alcar and I stand for Gondor. "He gestured to the other Gondorian man who mirrored the polite bowing action.

"We welcome you, men of Gondor, and are grateful for the journey you have made to take your place on the council," Thorin replied, and Bilbo sighed at the sound of the powerful and deep voice of the born leader. It had been so long since he had seen his... friend, and he was longing to speak to him. The king gestured with his gloved hand towards one of three dwarves who stood patiently in a line beside him. "This is Eilif. He will be your guide through Erebor."

The Gondorian men rose and politely bowed their heads as a dismissal as their guide began to lead them out of the room.

_Ah, my turn_, thought Bilbo and made to move forward but was suddenly cut off as the men of Rohan strode confidently forward. The hobbit sighed and gazed wistfully at Fili and Kili, who were looking annoyed at the long, formal introductions, but Bilbo supposed that it was something that they would have to get used to as the king's heirs.

The hobbit knew that formal introductions were necessary in the dwarven kingdom- as dwarves could be quite secretive and possessive of their homeland and therefore preferred to know exactly _who_ was in it!

The Rohirric introduction went much the same as that of the Gondorians; polite phrases were exchanged, the men bowed respectfully, Fili and Kili stifled yawns of boredom and Thorin assigned them a guide named Hrolf to lead them away to their chambers.

The throne room took on an air of tension, however, as the elves stepped forward- for Bilbo assumed that it was his place to go last because he was not a member of a pair- and the dwarves present in the room stiffened. The various courtiers and nobles who had attended the introduction of the council members held stern but considerably cold expressions on their faces, but the elves- ever the politicians- gave nothing away.

The taller elf with raven hair gave a polite bow from his upper torso- an action that the other elf mirrored. Seeing the obviously respectful gesture towards their leader, the present dwarven courtiers relaxed slightly, but still remained alert. Bilbo was sure that the elves knew how they were being received, and he once again admired their control of their emotions- surely, they must be feeling even a little bit outraged, but they would not show it.

"Greetings, King Thorin of Erebor," the raven-haired elf spoke softly- though everyone was able to hear him perfectly. "I am Lindir and this is my companion Nolofinwë. We bring glad tidings from Rivendell, and our people are honoured to be a part of this council."

The silence that followed was so tense that a pin dropping would be akin to a shout. Bilbo watched Thorin's face; his eyes were narrowed in suspicion- which was probably just a reaction to any elf he crossed paths with- but that was the only readable expression he could see. The Durin brothers were much more open, and they were admittedly torn- as Rivendell had been nothing but welcoming to them during the quest to reclaim Erebor, but they certainly didn't like the idea of opposing their uncle's decision.

Finally, the king spoke.

"We dwarves welcome you to our homeland- as you once welcomed us to yours," Thorin replied in civil tones and a slight incline to his head, "Your hospitality was vital to our cause, and dwarves never forget a good deed- or a bad one." The warning was painfully clear to everyone present- even Bilbo. "Sigurd will show you to your quarters."

They exchanged polite parting gestures, but they were tense. Bilbo sighed as the elves were led out of the room; he admired that they had agreed to come here. Being the only elves in Erebor would not be easy- but Thorin had just made their experience slightly easier by publicly accepting them as guests. That would stop open hatred- but not suspicion.

But that was not a matter the hobbit needed to be concerned with. Now, he thought with a growing feeling of anticipation in his stomach, now is the time for a reunion between friends.

Bilbo stepped forward, mirroring the actions of the other party members before him, and sunk to a deep bow.

He knew that he could not simply rush over and embrace Thorin and tell him how much he missed him and Kili and Fili- despite how much he ached to do so. No, the king was among his subjects, and he needed to be seen as respected by all races.

"Uh, greetings from the Shire!" Bilbo stammered softly, unsure of how to act in front of so many harsh- looking dwarves who were openly staring at him in both curiosity and suspicion. "I'm Bilbo- Baggins, that is- and I am…well, here for the council."

"That's what a Halfling looks like?" He heard mutters through the crowd, and people were commenting on his feet, and how alike his ears were to that of elves. At that last comment, Fili and Kili turned glares onto the group of watching dwarves- who immediately quietened down and simply observed the king's reaction to the strange creature before them.

"Bilbo Baggins," Thorin said, and his voice echoed around the open room, and surely anyone outside of the doors would be able to hear him clearly. The king's emotionless face softened into a smile- and the courtiers all took a sharp intake of breath at the sight. The dwarf did not smile too often during court-such was the burden of kingship- but when he did, it was taken seriously.

The ruler stood and made his way over to the hobbit, who was now fully beaming in reply. The taller being placed his hands on the Halfling's shoulders and stared down at him- and behind him, the two brothers were grinning and eagerly awaiting their turn to welcome the hobbit.

"My friend," Thorin said, though he spoke loud enough for the entire court to hear- he knew that the word would spread like wildfire that the Halfling was his friend. Such a bond between dwarves was not something to be trifled with; it meant protecting each other and helping them in their time of need. In less than a day, the king knew that all of Erebor would understand that to touch the hobbit would be foolish. "I am glad that you have come."

"I didn't really have too much of a choice," Bilbo confessed, remembering Bag End's precarious state. Then, he realised how rude his words might have sounded, and hurriedly spoke again. "Not saying that I'm here unwillingly- no! I want to be here, Erebor's glorious."

The dwarven king- used to the awkward antics of the hobbit- levelled Bilbo with a grave stare. His fists tightened slightly around the hobbit's shoulders.

"You have my deepest condolences for the attack on your homeland," Thorin softly told him, and then an angry glare crossed his majestic features, "You know that I understand your situation, my friend, and I will make sure that you have another home among us here." Then, sweeping around in a grand gesture, he observed the crowd as his voice rose so that all present would hear. "Let it be known that Bilbo Baggins is to be welcomed as a citizen of Erebor…and my friend."

The Durin brothers nodded in agreement with his statement- reinforcing to the public that the hobbit was under royal protection- and the group of courtiers whispered to themselves in interest.

Turning back to the Halfling, the king nodded respectfully, as a way of parting, and spoke softly so that only Bilbo could hear.

"The court has not adjourned as of yet," he murmured- naturally all business, "But I do believe that I can spare Fili and Kili. They will escort you to your quarters." He gave a brief twitch of his lips again as he gestured for the brothers to approach them. "I will see you in time."

With that, he returned once more to his throne gracefully, and the twins eagerly approached the hobbit. They each took one of his arms and lead him- rather forcefully, but that was just their way- out of the throne room. Bilbo could feel the eyes of the king on his back as they left, and he could practically hear the curious whispers of the crowd- all of them no doubt wondering how he managed to earn such favour among royalty.

Thorin obviously hadn't told them about him and his role in the reclaiming of Erebor and the king's health. Sure, the public had probably heard of _a_ hobbit that had assisted in the matters, but Thorin must have been waiting for Bilbo's return until he would reveal him to the city.

"Bilbo Baggins, back at last!" Kili nudged him in the stomach, a grin set firmly on his face as they walked back through the labyrinth that was Erebor.

"We all missed you," Fili added on, turning his head down slightly so that the hobbit could see his seriousness. Then, like his uncle, his face became grave as he remembered why the Halfling had returned to them. "We're sorry about your home, though."

"It was a nice home," Kili pressed, undoubtedly recalling the night he'd spent there. "Nice pantry."

"Nice food," the other twin sighed wistfully at the memory of Bilbo's homemade cooking.

"And ale."

"You shouldn't have had any," Fili sniffed at his twin, shaking his head as though he'd committed a sin. "You're too young."

"I'm the same age as you!" Kili replied, clearly affronted at the responsible tone of his brother's voice. "What makes you better?!"  
The blonde dwarf placed a hand on his heart and raised his eyebrows as though the answer was painfully obvious.

"Well, I'm more mature at heart, aren't I?" Fili asked, though the way he spoke indicated that his words weren't a question. The darker-haired twin scoffed at this and then muttered some obscenities that caused Bilbo to blush a deep red at- he certainly hadn't heard many curses like that for a long time.

Then, the twins returned their attention to Bilbo, both jabbering away about life in Erebor since he'd been gone. As the hobbit found out, the clean-up had been going superbly well despite the odd scavenging creature they'd encounter every now and then, but there were still some areas that they would prefer Bilbo didn't go to without ensured protection.

"Nothing personal," Fili insisted, though the rakish dwarf had been sure to stand at his full height just to impress the fact that he was taller than the hobbit while he spoke.

"This place is massive," Kili added, and leaned down to show Bilbo the seemingly bottomless drop down into the mines and lower levels, "There could be anything down there that hasn't shown its face yet."  
With a shudder, Bilbo likened the situation to the goblins in the Misty Mountains living high and blindly above the wretched Gollum-creature. Oh yes, there could still indeed be any sort of dangerous beast lurking below them as they walked.

Turning away from the view down into the mines, the hobbit continued to stride forward with two mischievously grinning dwarves behind him.

"You once ran into a Cold Drake in one of the less cleared-out tunnels, didn't you?" Kili loudly asked his brother, who quickly caught onto the situation.

The hobbit froze, recalling all the frightening stories from home of the various wingless drakes. From his gardener's tales, Cold Drakes were like giant, man-eating worms, and they lived in dark places and ate flesh!

"A Cold Drake?" Bilbo repeated with a very undignified squeak to his voice.

"Oh yes. They live around here- especially up in the Withered Heath," Fili replied, nodding grimly as they twisted and turned through the higher passageways and corridors. "Frightful creature, it was. Teeth the size of boulders, and legs as thick as stone slabs."

"Thought it would tear you in half, didn't you?" Kili sighed sadly, placing a hand to his throat as if emotional.

"Indeed."

"Stop scaring the poor laddie," the rough voice came from next to them, and Bilbo turned to see a smiling Dwalin approach them. His muscled arms were bare and the tattoos still gleamed on his forehead in a warrior-like manner.

"Dwalin!" Bilbo greeted the friend with a beaming face, and rushed over with the intention of hugging him until he couldn't breathe…but then stopped short just before the dwarf as he thought embracing in a corridor might not be the most dignified of acts among dwarfs. Instead, he awkwardly held out his hand and cleared his throat. "Well, uh, good to see you."

"Don't give me that!" The taller dwarf scoffed and pulled the hobbit into a bear-like hug that pulled Bilbo's toes off of the ground and left his arms dangling around in the air. Finally, Dwalin dropped him back on the ground and took amusement as the hobbit regained his breath and composure.

"Bombur's will be worse," Kili informed him with a chuckle, and Bilbo sighed as he predicted that Bombur's reunion hug would, indeed be bone-crushing.

Straightening up, he turned to Dwalin who was laughing at the thought of seeing the hobbit get swept up in a Bombur-hug. That would be an entertaining spectacle.

"So, uh, how have you been, Dwalin?" Bilbo asked as he gestured that they continue on their journey to his quarters. Beside him, he abruptly saw the two Durin brothers pout at his words.

"You never asked how we'd been, Bilbo!" They whined, gazing with heartbroken expressions at him.

"You didn't exactly give me the chance," he replied with a scoff and turned back to the elder, much more sensible dwarf.

Dwalin was, the hobbit now saw, covered in grime and dirt, though he still carried his war hammer with him through the city- which must have been a heavy item for such a leisurely time. His beard was ungroomed, though it was difficult to tell whether it had just been messed up through dirty work.

"I've been part of the major clean-up," the dwarf explained, and gestured to his filthy body, "Our party goes down deep into the abandoned mines and scouts out the area for any…unwanted guests. If we give the all-clear, the normal cleaners get sent in. If there's something lurking in the dark that shouldn't be there, we take it down."

"I'd have thought that Erebor would have been cleaned by now," Bilbo frowned as he thought-aloud.

"It's a bit bigger than what you'd think- you being from a small town," Fili answered with a flashing grin.

"Apparently," the hobbit replied as he absentmindedly stared down over the edge of the pathway and saw the countless crisscrossing paths below. He rose and shrugged suddenly, "then again, you haven't had a hobbit helping you." He nodded primly running his fingertips up the hem of his jacket. "We know _quite_ a thing or two about cleaning."

The Durin brothers grinned and nodded along with the hobbit.

"And cooking," Fili added with a sly expression on his face.

"And washing," Kili joined in.

They both glanced at each other with mischievous smirks playing across their lips, and turned back to the hobbit as they delivered their punchline.

"You're the perfect house-wife!"

Bilbo scowled as the twins and Dwalin roared with laughter at his expense. It was certainly back to normal amongst them all, and despite the joke being against him, he felt oddly quaint. He had been missing the companionship of the dwarfs, and was glad to have it back.

Suddenly, Kili broke off from laughing as they rounded a final corridor, and he pointed towards a pair of doors at the end.

"See here?" He showed the hobbit where he was gesturing towards, and Bilbo saw that it was a double-door with an engraving of a hobbit-hole on it- and he had to say that it looked suspiciously like it was modelled after Bag-End. "These are your quarters."

Fili reached towards the door handles and pushed inwards; revealing the spacious room inside. The twins pushed the overwhelmed hobbit inside and the three dwarfs followed suit. Bilbo gazed with a gaping mouth at the room he had been placed into.

He was high enough that he had a balcony- a balcony!- overlooking the city of Dale, and from where he stood, he could easily see the bonfires of what appeared to be a festival taking place and the dying rays of the sunset in the west cast a beautiful orange gold hue on the ground of his quarters. The walls had also, the hobbit saw, been specifically designed for him; areas of the Shire had been beautifully engraved into the walls around him.

The furniture was extravagant- which made Bilbo feel rather uncomfortable, as he was not used to such obviously expensive finery- and the bed was large enough that the hobbit thought that it was entirely possible that he would drown in it later that night. There were bookcases of various novels and scrolls that Bilbo would enjoy devouring in his free time, and there was even a small rack off to the side beside the entrance that was able to hold his coat and sword.

Turning back to the dwarves who were watching him, he was speechless and so fumbled around for a few moments until he finally stammered out a sentence.

"W-Who did all of this?" He asked in wonderment, unable to take his eyes off of the engravings of his home.  
"We all helped with something," Kili told him, grinning ear to ear in satisfaction.

"We wanted to make you feel at home," Fili added with a warm smile. Beside him, Dwalin grunted in agreement.

Bilbo was about to reply when something glinted in his peripheral vision. Swinging to the side, he saw a small figurine resting atop the desk that had been placed near the balcony. He slowly walked over to where it sat, and tenderly picked it up. It was an exquisitely carved figurine of a pony- suspiciously like the beautiful Myrtle who had been lost on the quest for Erebor- and was made of gold, but the horseshoes glittered blue- as they were made from sapphires.

Turning it gently, he gasped to see that the eyes were a multitude of different bright colours; they were waterfalls of colour. He raised his head in shock to the twins.

"Are they made from-?" He trailed off, amazed as he examined the eyes of the horse. The Durin brothers nodded.

"Eyes are chips of the Arkenstone," Fili explained with a knowing smile on his face. "Thorin made the horse for you."  
"Chipped the eyes out of the very back of the stone and hung it back in the throne room so that nobody could tell the difference," Kili smirked, and Bilbo wondered if he had given the king the idea to hide the blemishes of the stone.

"It's wonderful," the hobbit softly replied, gazing down onto the horse once more before placing it back down onto the desk.

As the dwarves continued to tour Bilbo around his quarters, the figurine still glinted brightly in the corner of his eye; a constant reminder of the king that he was here in Erebor for.

* * *

**Thanks for reading the first chapter :) This is based on the movie-verse, but I will relate to the books if I need to. Obviously, no one has died :) Yes, this is a Bagginshield pairing, but the romance will not be click-speed fast.**

**Music I listened to while writing this: _Rohan _and_ The Houses of Healing,_ by Howard Shore and _Elements_ by Lindsey Stirling**

******Title subject to change! Which do you think is better?_ A Matter of Diplomacy_ or _Hobbits and Diplomacy?_ Please tell me, as I'm not too sure.**

**Any suggestions, spotted mistakes, feedback, please tell me. And- I'm not going to sugar coat it- reviewing will get you a quicker update, so if you liked the first chapter, review and you'll soon get another :) Reviews motivate any author ^-^**

**Thanks!**


	2. The Banquet

Dusk was falling in Erebor, and Bilbo had one of the best views of it. Tucked within the warmth of a lovely quilt, he overlooked the scenic appearance of Dale and the terrain surrounding it. Despite his high position, he could still see the last of the dying sun's rays glimmering on the small creeks below him, and he could make out the still-bustling centre of the city before him.

Dale would, he thought, be a very prosperous place to live. After the Battle of Five Armies, Thorin and Bard cooperated and rebirthed the relationship between the two cities. Gradually, the small group of men that the bowman had brought to help set up Dale became steadily larger and larger, until a city rose.

Many former refugees had been missing their homes, and wished to reclaim it, just as the dwarves had done.

Bilbo remembered when Thorin had first entered his hobbit hole at the Shire, and- whilst he originally was dead against risking himself for a matter that was of no concern to him- Bilbo heard the pain and determination in their voices as they sang in the night, and he found it…noble. He found that they had a cause, a drive that the hobbit hadn't felt before and that, if he could help them fulfil their dream, than he owed it to them to assist in their quest.

Now, leaning against the edge of his balcony, he was glad that he had come this far; that he had seen the harsh nights and chilling battles at their side. Three years ago, he would have never had believed that he would currently be in a restored dwarven kingdom- let along that he would have met dwarves at all!

The night finally devoured the last of the sun's rays, and the golden hue vanished from the earth; replaced by a dark indigo. With a sigh, the hobbit turned away from the view his balcony offered- as he was beginning to feel the chill of night- and wandered back into his quarters.

The two brothers and Dwalin had gone to alert the kitchens that a special feast would be held in the hall that evening; a feast to celebrate the hobbit's return. The dwarves were prepared to thoroughly neglect the other delegates, but Bilbo had sternly reminded them of the reason he was at Erebor, and the dwarves had slunk out of the room in the manner of scolded children and sent invites to the other council members.

With reluctance, the hobbit unwrapped the soft quilt from around his shoulders and wandered over to his wardrobe to find a suitable outfit for the evening. Of course, before leaving the Shire, Bilbo had been sure to wash and repair his favourite clothing for the duration of his stay in Erebor- which even he did not know.

Open the closet doors, he rummaged through his inventory and picked out his best pair of breaches, a nice white shirt and a kingfisher blue coat to protect him from the cold of the night. He scurried to dress before the dwarves returned and then examined himself in the mirror. In doing so, the glinting eyes of the horse figurine on the desk caught his gaze, and the hobbit had no choice but to cross the room and pick it up.

Surprisingly heavy in his grasp, Bilbo felt a surge of affection towards the Myrtle-looking pony, and he felt that it was almost an anchor to the real world. It reminded him of his home, and in his current situation, the hobbit felt as though a sense of home was exactly what he needed.

With a tender smile, Bilbo deposited the figurine into his pocket- he smiled in content as he heard it clang gently against the golden ring he always carried with him- and crossed back to the mirror to examine his reflection. His cheeks were flushed slightly and his hair was noticeably messy after his bath.

Scowling, Bilbo ruffled it a few times but it did not change an inch. If there was anything more stubborn than a hobbit, it was a hobbit's hair! He fruitlessly tried to smooth the frayed edges down, but the moment his hand had finished pressing it against his scalp, the damned lock flew right back up again!

It was during his fussy period of hair- harassing that the brothers finally returned. The entered the quarters and struggled to realise what the hobbit was trying to achieve, as there appeared to be absolutely nothing the matter with him from their eyes. But, Bilbo was akin to a woman with his varying moods.

He had noticed their presences and froze in embarrassment; for a hobbit to be seen grooming himself was quite the social blunder. He immediately straightened up and nodded politely but stiffly to them.

"Well, uh, how did it go?" Bilbo stammered out with burning cheeks. The dwarf brothers were unaware of the hobbit's situation and stood next to him.

"The men both accepted," Kili informed him with a bit of a scowl on his face; he obviously wished that the dwarves would just be able to keep Bilbo to themselves, but now they'd have to entertain and share him with the men of Gondor and Rohan.

"The elves _politely_ declined," Fili added with a slight twitch of amusement to his lips. "Had too much of the dwarves for one night, one might think."

"Or maybe they don't want to turn up to tomorrow's council feeling the after-effects of too much ale," Bilbo appraisingly replied- still a bit embarrassed, but was realising that the dwarves probably didn't consider his blunder anything terrible. "I already know that you're going to try and force a drink onto me and I tell you now that I am a respectable hobbit of the Shire!" He fixed a glare at them both and nodded primly in self-satisfaction. "I don't drink when there's business to be done the next day."

"I thought you also didn't go on adventures," Fili softly retorted, a small mischievous grin gracing his smooth features.

"Yes, well, I'm a Took," Bilbo scowled, blushing deeply, before straightening back up once more. "And I'm not drinking a sip of ale so don't force any on me tonight!"

The Durin siblings sighed exasperatedly but nodded in agreement nonetheless. The hobbit accepted this firmly and allowed them to each take him by an arm and lead him towards the door.

"We promise we won't try," Kili graciously told him, before a wicked grin crossed his lips, and Bilbo nearly jumped in fright at the sudden mood change. "I promise that _we_ won't." The hobbit narrowed his eyes at the stressing of the word 'we'.

The brothers were up to something, and Bilbo wasn't too sure he wanted to know what.

* * *

The hall was certainly a sight to see: Goblet of pure silver and gold adorned a gloriously carved table of mahogany. Set for over a dozen people, the room was a bustling attack of shine on the hobbit's eyes as he gingerly entered the room.

He was not the first to arrive, and immediately felt the urge to rush out of the hall and jump underneath the warm coverlets of his bed. He was sorely underdressed and despite it being a natural behaviour of a hobbit, Bilbo wished that he could have worn shoes. The other council guests were dressed in tunics with marvellous embroidery and boots made from the finest leather. Even as he entered, their presence felt judgemental and the hobbit was rather self-conscious.

His comfort was that the dwarves present- whilst still dressed up- were unable to mask the comfortable ruggedness of their kind; which Bilbo was rather thankful for. In his eyes, their beards were unkempt and the frayed edges of their braids were signs of lack of time in getting ready. Bofur, the gentle soul that he was, even was wearing his recognisable hat!

As soon as the doors behind him were closed, every dwarf present at the table grinned broadly and raised their goblets of ale high in a salute to him. A loud chorus of 'Bilbo!' ran through the echoing room, and the hobbit felt blood rush to his cheeks in embarrassment at being put on the spot like this. His eyes wandered and he noticed that the chair at the high end of the table- the King's chair- was empty.

Bilbo waved weakly to his friends, who roared in approval and gestured for him to take a seat. Scanning for a free space, the hobbit noticed that the men of Gondor and Rohan were watching him with a curious expression on their faces. He wandered over and sat in the vacant chair next to Othilion, who clicked hurriedly to a dwarven worker to fetch the hobbit something to drink.

The Halfling wiggled his toes slightly and leant back comfortably in his seat as the dwarves bombarded him with questions so quickly that he was barely able to understand what they were saying- though, in Bifur's case, the hobbit didn't actually understand.

"Yes, I'm well," Bilbo replied to their various inquiries and swivelled around slightly to be able to fit all of the dwarves in his vision while he spoke.

"Yes, I'm staying for a while and I'm glad to be here."

"Bag-End is being repaired as we speak."

"No, the elves weren't rude."

The hobbit sighed and raised his hands in finality. All the dwarves immediately fell silent and allowed him the respect of addressing them. The men were watching the exchange in confusion, but the hobbit was not paying attention to them at the time.

"It's good to see all of you," Bilbo stood and threw his hands out in front of him in a placating manner. "But I have not eaten since earlier this morning, and I am longing for a meal."

The dwarves, who understood their dear friend's predicament quite well, jumped to their feet and called for the awaiting workers to bring in the readied food. Alcar, who was very strict on courtesy and manners, furrowed his brow in confusion and doubt.

"Should we not wait for the King?" He voiced his thoughts aloud and the other men around him nodded in agreement- as they believed that a royal feast should not begin if the king was not there.

"He won't mind," Kili insisted, gesturing carelessly at the workers, who understood and immediately filed out of the room to retrieve the evening's dinner. "It's Bilbo."

"Fear not, wise men of the south," Balin, who was the first to see the caution that was needed when dealing with the delegates of the council, interjected in an attempt to play peacekeeper. "We do it all the time."

The other dwarves frowned in their own confusion and opened their mouths to voice their questions, when Bilbo noticed how the men were acting. Their brows were creased and they constantly exchanging glances of suspicion and doubt at their company.

At first- being the innocently naïve hobbit he was- Bilbo was unable to guess why they were acting so, but then he remembered the occasional tales of the town council in Bree. Everyone there vied for being the best, and favours with the right people meant you had more power. Such distrust and discord was bad for a council, and so everyone had to remain equal.

The hobbit realised then that perhaps his place on the council was not such a good idea as he had originally thought. His experience with the powerful dwarves meant that he would ultimately be shown favour when it came to his opinion, and that would not bode well for the relationship between the other races.

He knew then that he had to speak to Thorin; the king would have probably already predicted the situation, and would know what to do. _For now_, he thought as he sat watching while Balin tried to convince the men of their equality, _for now my adventures must remain hidden_.

The hobbit cleared his throat loudly as a plan rose to his mind. Standing, he flinched slightly as he felt the cold floor against his toes but he pushed it aside as he fiddled with the hem of his pocket and wished that he could pull out his ring and vanish…but he knew that now was not the time. The dwarves and men fell silent, though the Gondorians and Rohirric were watching him carefully and with narrowed eyes of distrust.

"I would like to personally thank each and every dwarf here for the kindness you have shown me," Bilbo announced, a warm smile of gratitude on his face. He spoke, however, with a manner of distance; as though he were addressing acquaintances as opposed to dear friends. The men were quick to pick up his manner and they frowned. "Ah, my fellow council members! You do not know."

The hobbit placed his head in his hand and shook it regretfully; as though he had committed a rudeness. Through the gaps in his fingers, he watched carefully as the expressions of the men delved deeper into self-doubt. He emerged from his palm and sighed quickly before facing the Gondorians and Rohirric.

"I accompanied some of these men and their kin from the Blue Mountains to Rivendell," Bilbo felt the lie dance across his lips, but as he spoke, a thousand ways that his plan could fail were running over and over in his head. "They're a merry bunch and I have no doubt you will enjoy their company as much as I have."

He winked as though he were sharing a secret and then tried to conceal his collapsing manner as he returned to his seat. The hobbit saw as the dwarves were frowning, but most were beginning to understand his purpose and those who didn't still possessed enough sense to remain silent- for which many were grateful.

The men's faces had softened into expressions of relief, and Bilbo assumed that they had not wanted to change their relationship with him. Despite the occasionally tense moments on the journey to Erebor, the men and hobbit had been rather warm to each other, and that would have been a pity to throw away.

Regardless, Bilbo knew that he must tread very carefully from then on. It would take the slightest slip up from anyone for his position to be jeopardised, so he needed to watch what he was saying in the council and in the presence of the men.

It was then that the great, double doors of the hall were opened. The previous tension in the air gave way to the sudden distraction- a distraction that could not have arrived at a more convenient time.

The King strode into the room, and the dwarves cheered a loud greeting. Bilbo was not the only one to politely block his ears at the painful noise; he saw that the men were trying to conceal their actions of covering their ears by pretending to scratch their neck.

Thorin, who had changed out of the heavy attire he'd worn during court, was now clad in a tunic of deep emerald, and Bilbo's eyes widened to see that actual emerald had been sewn into the material! They glimmered in the firelight as he confidently approached the table and his designated seat at the end.

He caught the hobbit's gaze, and frowned as Bilbo tried to desperately convey his predicament to the king by shaking his head slightly and gesturing towards himself. The dwarf was a master of remaining emotionless, and Bilbo wasn't sure whether Thorin had understood anything the hobbit was trying to tell him.

Bilbo resisted the urge to slam his head against the table in frustration. There had to be a way out of this! Maybe, if he slunk back into his chair for the remainder of the evening, he could get away with not revealing his relationship with the company of dwarves.

He knew that this was impossible, and that with the addition of alcohol to the meal, important information would get leaked and then he would be in trouble.

"I saw that you had already sent for the food," Thorin glared slightly at his younger nephew, who blushed in embarrassment at being scolded publicly. Dwarves were very possessive about their food.

Bilbo stiffened and attempted to catch the king's gaze again and silently plead with him to not pursue the topic any further. However, the dwarf was not facing him; he was instead watching his sister-sons with raised eyebrows.

The two brothers laughed as though everything were a joke- which, had Bilbo known any better, he would have thought it to be- and the company of dwarves shook their heads in exasperation at the heirs' mischievous ways.

"It was the most efficient way to get you down here quicker!" Fili roared, grinning as he took a swig of his ale and winked at the men, who were perhaps being reminded of their own experiences with up-to-no-good children.

"You were taking forever!" Kili added with the hint of a childish whinge in his voice, and Bilbo wa grateful for their superior acting abilities.

Thorin crinkled his eyes in annoyance, but he would not be one to fully scold his nephews in front of delegates of the council; no, he would wait until later. He shook his head and exchanged a quick questioning glace with Balin, who then nudged the dwarf on the opposite side of him- Bofur.

Bilbo watched with wide eyes as the dwarf with his curious hat took barely a moment's hesitation before sweeping his arms out to the side and promptly knocking over his goblet of ale onto the lap of Alcar of Gondor.

Bofur cringed and opened his mouth to a flood of 'sincere' apologies whilst the man rose to his feet and desperately tried to prevent his white tunic from staining. Othilion and the Rohirric men were distracted momentarily as they gestured to a worker to fetch them a cloth and the dwarves were making a fine show of laughing raucously at the red-cheeked Bofur.

Bilbo watched in fascination as he saw Balin lean gently to his side and murmur something undistinguishable(though the hobbit was able to guess) to the King during the wild distraction taking place around them. Thorin's unreadable gaze flickered over to where the Halfling sat. Their eyes met momentarily as the king took in what his friend was saying.

Thorin's eyes narrowed slightly and Balin finally leant back and joined in on the laughter at Bofur's expense. The king's attention returned to Bilbo, and the hobbit was able to see as the dwarf nodded almost imperceptibly at him with an expression of understanding on his face. Relief and a weary smile flooded Bilbo's features, and the king twitched his lips slightly in return.

Then the moment was broken.

"Enough!" Thorin roared as he rose to his feet. Every dwarf immediately fell silent and directed all of the attention to their king, who somehow managed the seemingly-impossible feat of fixing a glare on every one of them at the same time. "Return to your seats and stop making us out for fools." The sheepish company of dwarves settled apprehensively into their chairs, and Bilbo marvelled once more at the acting skills of his friends.

Alcar, who had not succeeded in preventing a stain on his tunic, now bowed quickly to the king-who promised a replacement- and the Gondorian man excused himself to change his garments. As he left the room, a smile of mirth finally graced Othilion's face, and the man let out a bark of warm laughter that the Rohirric men soon joined.

The dwarves- true to their king's word- amazingly remained silent.

* * *

The dinner was pleasant after that, though the hobbit felt disappointed.

He could not rush into a conversation with his dear friends without faking everything he said; he wanted to apologise to Bofur about the need for his actions, but the dwarf was sitting right next to Alcar! It would be folly for him to make any mention of the journey he'd made with the company, and so that topic that universally accepted to be off-limits.

The dwarves were still warm in conversation to him, but Bilbo wished that they were in private so that they could speak properly to him. Eventually, as the evening wore on, the hobbit's eyes tended to wander to the king; who was playing the perfect diplomat.

Seated near the men of Rohan, Thorin made polite small talk and acted thoroughly interested in everything they said. Bilbo doubted that the men even realised that the king was faking! Then, the men of Gondor subtly joined the conversation and the hobbit knew that they were suspicious of the Rohirric for their prolonged time in the king's presence. How would they ever act if Bilbo was found out?

Then a goblet was placed in front of him; a goblet of ale. The hobbit raised his head questioningly, as he had ordered water, but the worker shook his head and placed a finger to his lips for silence.

"The king insisted that you have at least one," the worker whispered as Bilbo stared at the intimidatingly large amount of alcohol before him. "Just so that you can enjoy the rest of the feast."

Left without a choice- as he didn't want to insult Thorin- Bilbo shrugged and thought: _What's the harm of just one drink?_

He didn't consider that perhaps dwarven ale was a little bit stronger than hobbit ale.

The rest of the evening passed by miraculously uneventfully, and Bilbo was escorted by Runolf- his assigned guide- back to his quarters with a full stomach and a strong headache. After thanking his escort, the hobbit retreated inside the familiar chambers with the urge to down a jug of water to see if it was relieve him of the pain in his skull.

He was about to call for an extremely large bucket when there was a strong knock on his door. Perking up immediately, the hobbit sped over to the doors and frowned down at the handled of the double doors.

When did he get double doors? _How did he get double doors?_ This was _Bag-End_…there wasn't a lot of room for double doors. The hobbit sighed to himself and came to the conclusion that he must have been drunk when he decided to get them installed.

"Bilbo, you fool," he scolded himself and then remembered that he had a guest, and promptly took hold of both doors and swung them open to reveal Thorin Oakenshield.

The dwarf raised his eyebrows at the dishevelled state of the hobbit and turned his gaze away as he chuckled quietly. The hobbit, who had been overjoyed to see his friend visit him at Bag-End, was feeling a little irritated that the dwarf was already mocking him.

"What?" He asked snappishly, crossing his arms and swaying slightly on his feet.

"I fear you may have drunken too much ale, Mr Baggins," Thorin replied with a very small smirk twitching at his lips. The hobbit was reminded of the time when the king had compared him to a grocer before the quest to reclaim Erebor. The memory was blurry though…

"_You_," Bilbo pointed a wobbly finger at the dwarf before him and didn't realise that his words were turning into one big slur, "Forced-dranked me."

"Forced-dranked?" The dwarf was unable to stop an amused grin flittering over his features before wiping it away with a frown as the hobbit began to sway violently.

This time, Bilbo noticed that the world was beginning to swim in his view and that everything was shaking around him. Fear clouded his eyes and immediately ran to stand underneath the door frame and gestured that Thorin do the same.

"Quick, Thorin!" He yelled, though to the dwarf it sounded more like 'kkkkkuiii thhaarah', and the hobbit began to stumble around. "Earthquake!"

The king shook his head and placed his hands on the shoulders of the hobbit, who tried valiantly to pull his friend to what he considered safety.

"There is no earthquake, my friend," Thorin gently told him, though the hobbit no longer was listening to him.

"Help!" Bilbo screamed, clinging to the door frame and batting away at unseen foes, "It's a dragon!"

The king's eyes widened and then the dwarf realised that the hobbit was reliving a memory. Guards from further up in the hallway had begun to wander down his way in concern , but Thorin quickly shooed them away with a gesture.

He then turned to the hobbit and pulled him inside of the Shire-themed quarters. Shutting the door, he faced his friend who was now pale but unmoving; Bilbo was thoroughly fixated on the dwarf. The hobbit- now completely unfazed about the swimming in his vision- reached out his hand and touched Thorin's beard.

The king's eyes widened, as a beard was a very personal thing and to allow another to touch it was considered rather intimate, but the hobbit moved his hand to one of the king's braids. Thorin was about to interrupt and to explain the intimacy of such a moment when he felt a sudden pain erupt on his jaw as the hobbit tugged the braid in his hand violently.

He cried out in shock and turned a glare down onto the hobbit, who was watching in morbid fascination. Bilbo released the braid with the air of lost interest, and smiled in self-satisfaction. The king sighed and wondered whether he should wait to talk to his friend- as the hobbit was not taking too well to dwarven ale.

"You know, Thorin," Bilbo slurred, though of course his words were barely indistinguishable from nonsense, "I don't think I feel quite well."

Then the hobbit swayed violently for a final time before he promptly hit the ground- unconscious.

* * *

**Wow! Thank you for all the reviews and follows and favorites but feedback motivates me so much! So thank you for everyone helping me out and please continue to do so!**

**After taking everyone's opinion into consideration, I have decided that the title will remain _A Matter of Diplomacy_. **

**I am in need of a cover image if anyone is good with that sort of thing :(**

**I will edit this properly tomorrow- as it is late for me and I am tired so I will have undoubtedly have overlooked things.**

**Next chapter: THE COUNCIL! **

**Please review! :) **


	3. The Council of Four Arms

Bilbo Baggins woke to a sharp throbbing in his head. The hobbit blearily opened his eyes and pressed a coarse hand to his temples, though he winced slightly as he applied perhaps too much pressure onto his sensitive skin.

He groaned aloud as he shifted into a sitting position despite his body's screams of protest, and he flinched as the throbbing in his skull increased sharply. He made a 'tch' sound and shook his head as he recalled the earlier evening.

The feast…Bilbo remembered that! He could recall the tension in the air as he and the dwarves skilfully evaded undesirable accusations from the other races. After the feast though…well, that was where things began to get a little hazy.

Did he wander back to his rooms straight away or had he decided to make any…unwanted detours? The hobbit whimpered as he thought of all the humiliation he might face when he entered the council room- as all the other delegates may have been privy to his undoubtedly drunken behaviour.

Bilbo bit his lips and thought that perhaps he shouldn't go-at least for the first meeting. After that, perhaps the attention may have shifted off of him a bit and then…No. That would certainly not gain him any favours with Thorin. Not that that particularly mattered. Okay, it mattered a little.

The hobbit sighed to himself and began to shuffle awkwardly out the side of his bed. With movement came the distraction from the pounding in his head, and so Bilbo continued to shift and squirm until his feet touched the cold marble of the floor. He squeaked slightly at the sudden change in temperature, but with tough skin like his, he quickly grew accustomed to it and began to rise into a standing position.

His head swirled around and his vision grew blurry, and the hobbit had to sit down again. This was precisely the reason why he never spent late nights at the tavern! It was demeaning the next morning to be practically incapable of the basic movements.

The hobbit was snapped out of his thoughts as there was a loud knock on the doors. Moments later, they swung open to reveal Runolf- his guide and assistant- standing with an appraising expression on his face. Bilbo replied to this with a scowl.

"Good morning, Master Baggins," the tawny-haired dwarf bowed slightly as he entered- picking up what appeared to be a bucket lying on the floor and placing it carefully next to the wall. "I see you had an eventful evening."  
The hobbit opened his mouth to speak, but the moment his lips parted, a deep sensation of nausea overtook him, and he ended up gripping the nearest hollow object and vomiting loudly into it.

* * *

"Drink it, Master Baggins," the guide- having cleaned the hobbit thoroughly in an eventful bath scene- now held a cinnamon-smelling concoction to Bilbo's lips. "Dwarves are no strangers to the ails of a drunken night; we know ways of easing the hardship."

Gratefully, the hobbit downed the bottle eagerly, and nearly spat it back out. It was rather bitter, and it made bile rise to the back of his throat, but with skill, the hobbit managed to keep the liquid down.

"What did I do last night?" Bilbo cast a glance to Runolf, who was now wandering over to the wardrobes to retrieve clothes. "After the banquet. I must have done something."

"Well, if you did, I have not heard of it," the dwarf replied smoothly as he picked out a deep green tunic and a pair of breeches and boots. He turned and swiftly strode over to the hobbit and placed the garments on the bed. "If you should ask anyone about last night, it would be the King."

"Thorin?" The hobbit's head snapped up at the mention of the dwarven king, and Bilbo was immediately dreading his possible drunken actions the previous night once more. "Why?"  
The guide gave him an absent-minded 'hmm?' sound as he rid the clothes of any creases before raising his gaze and meeting the hobbit's eyes once more.

"He was the last person to leave your chambers last night," Runolf replied calmly, a slightly knowing smile gracing his lips. "You may have been too incapacitated to remember."  
Bilbo immediately ran through all possible scenarios that involved the king being in his chambers- some may have made him blush- but that was cut short as his escort tapped his foot expectantly.

"Now," the tawny-haired dwarf said as he picked up the tunic, "Let's get you looking presentable for the council."

* * *

With the help of Runolf, the hobbit emerged from his quarters appearing to be mildly normal. His hair was slightly askew- much to his dwarven assistant's displeasure- and his clothes held signs of hurriedly brushed away creases, but aside from that, he still looked like the average Bilbo Baggins…in dwarven-made clothing.

His garments had obviously been made to fit him, and his loose, emerald-coloured tunic hung down to above his knees- and Bilbo knew that any tunic made for a dwarf would swallow most of his legs up. His breaches were rather itchy, though it was simply the 'new clothes' sensation, and the hobbit knew that would soon be worn out.

Runolf had valiantly fought to try and get Bilbo to wear the boots, but the hobbit had obviously resisted and won the argument. The dwarf had been saying that everyone else would be wearing shoes, but the hobbit had sniffed and said: "Thank goodness that I am not everyone else, then."

Now, he was being led through the twisted staircases and corridors of Erebor and the council awaited him. Bilbo frowned and observed that there was a slightly nauseous, hang-over caused feeling in his stomach, and the hobbit desperately hoped that he would not throw up at the council- how embarrassing would that be! Not only for himself, but for Thorin! Thankfully, the sensation was only small, and the special potion that Runolf had supplied him with would begin to take affect soon.

As they walked, the hobbit peered down into the seemingly endless criss-crossing pathways and ledges below him. There was something calming about the omnipresent, but distant sound of the tinkering of the ever-working miners in the cavernous depths of the mountain. Bilbo wondered whether he would ever be able to see them at work- Thorin, who would have been the hobbit's first choice of tour guide, would be too busy to take him, so hopefully the Durin brothers would have the leisure time to help out. Provided, of course, that he was granted the permission of viewing the mines…the hobbit certainly hadn't forgotten Fili's story of the Cold Drake.

Bilbo was snapped out of his thoughts as he heard Runolf gasp and halt in front of him. The hobbit just managed to avoid slamming into his escort's back, and then manoeuvred his neck around the dwarf to see what was happening. Two guards were striding towards them with a grim-faced dwarf in between them as an apprehended prisoner.

Runolf swiftly grasped the collar of Bilbo's tunic and pulled the hobbit safely to the side to allow the guards to pass with a nod of thanks to the escort. Bilbo watched as the black haired dwarf prisoner threw him a curious glance with his dark, obsidian eyes before turning away to face the paths ahead of him.

Once the party was out of earshot, the hobbit turned to his escort, who was preparing to resume the journey to the council room without mentioning a word of what had just happened.

"What was that?" Bilbo asked, glaring meaningfully at his tawny-haired escort, and the hobbit gestured with a pointed finger towards the direction that the guards had just went. "Who was that dwarf?"

"His name was Orn son of Aurnick," Runolf muttered quietly after a furtive glance to convince himself that none were eavesdropping, "He worked with the scouting parties that entered uninhabited tunnels of the mountain."

The hobbit waited expectantly for a continuation, but none was forthcoming. After a deeper glare at his escort, the tawny-haired dwarf relented.  
"There was a commotion earlier with him in an uninhabited area of the archives," Runolf explained, gesturing that they should continue walking. The hobbit speed-walked to keep up with his guide and to hear him properly. "He was caught attempting to make away with a scroll pertaining to Olvir."

"Who is that?"

The guide teetered nervously, and deliberately sped up his pace to try and make the hobbit focus on working harder to keep up instead of their conversation, but Bilbo was determined to get his answers. A hobbit could be extremely stubborn- and rather oblivious to politically delicate situations.

"The forefather of the dwarven clan of Blacklocks," Runolf replied in an almost hushed voice, "He was traitor- allied himself with orcs and tried to overthrow the other clans. When Thror, Thorin's grandfather, came to the throne of Erebor, he ordered the obliteration of all evidence of the Blacklock's forefather. All historical writings that mentioned him were wiped out."

"Well, apparently not," the hobbit sighed to himself and ran his finger along the smoothness of his tunic, "But what's the harm in this Orn fellow finding a scroll and keeping it? Was he just curious?"

The dwarven escort turned to him and halted in his steps, and Bilbo saw that they were now just before the grand doors of what must have been the council room. The tawny-haired guide dusted the invisible obscenities off his shoulders as he spoke.  
"Orn is the grandson of Onam, the last known ruler of the Blacklocks before they merged with the Stonefoots," Runolf explained with urgency as he tried to convince Bilbo of the importance of the situation. "_If_ he has enough supporters on his side, he could claim a right to the _throne."_

Bilbo's eyes widened as he thought of what that would mean for Thorin. The hobbit knew without a doubt that Thorin deserved the crown- he had seen the king fight stubbornly to reclaim it- and it would be terrible if all their hard efforts would go to waste.  
"You mean Thorin could be overthrown?" He asked as the realisation fell upon him.

"Or worse, laddie," Runolf, now satisfied that Bilbo understood, had calmed slightly. The dwarf placed his hands on the hobbit's shoulders and levelled him with a deep stare. "The King does not need this right now- not with a hostile dragon running rampant. You must promise me that this matter is _not _mentioned to the other council members."

"Why do I need"-

"This is politics, Master Baggins," the guide replied seriously, "If any other delegate knew that the dwarven race was divided, it could be a major advantage."

"Then on my father's honour, you have my word that I will not utter a word of this to another council member," Bilbo promised, flashing a glance over to the council doors as though he could already see the other race representatives watching him. "I do not want to cause any trouble."

The guide seemed to find the hobbit's words amusing for some reason, and he stifled a chuckle. This offended Bilbo, as he thought he was being very polite. Maybe there was some culture issue that he was missing out on knowing.

"Oh Master Baggins," Runolf nodded dismissively with an entertained grin, "You're very being here is causing much more trouble than you know."

Then he was wandering off before Bilbo could question what he had meant.

* * *

All the races watched as the hobbit entered the room. Bilbo gingerly padded over to a gloriously large table set in the middle of a large marble-floored room. Up on the high walls beside him were exquisite tapestries that must have either survived Smaug's destruction or were relics of other dwarven strongholds.

"Welcome, Master Baggins," Thorin greeted, his deep voice echoing around the open hall. He sat at the very end of the table, and the two seats adjoined to his were taken up by Fili and Kili- who hid their own welcomes exceedingly well. Behind the dwarves, a small table had been set up for Balin, who sat with a ready quill and paper to scribe the events about to transpire.

To the Fili's left, both Gondorian men sat duty-ready, and they had both recovered well from the ale of the previous night. Opposite them, beside Kili, the Rohirric men had not fared as well- but they were, of course, still better off then Bilbo. The two dwarves of the Blue Mountains that had travelled with Bilbo to Rivendell, also sat near the younger dwarven prince. Predictably-as furthest away as possible from the king- sat the two elves of Rivendell, their faces serene and all-knowing as they watched the hobbit be escorted to the seats opposite them.

"Begin, Balin," Thorin ordered his friend, who immediately readied his quill as the king spoke. "All members are present. The Council of Four Arms will now meet."  
There was a sort of tension in the air as he spoke, and Bilbo saw the other delegates exchange glances, and the hobbit wondered if they already knew of the Blacklock situation. He hoped not, as it would be rather inconvenient at present.

"The dragon was last scene at Rohan three weeks past," Othilion, who had obviously been told all the information needed to be adequate in the council before departing from Gondor, now spoke up with a meaningful glance at the Rohirric men. "Now, it is only natural to assume that it hides near us in the concealing recesses of the Withered Heath."

"We have sent scouts to watch the Heath for movement," Fili interjected, nodding to his brother, who must have been in charge of that order, "None has been forthcoming."

"It would by folly to think that the beast's purpose has been served," Eofor commented, obviously thinking of his own people's damage from the dragon. "It has achieved nothing aside from causing reparable chaos among a few scattered populaces."

"Then I suppose," Nolofinwë spoke up, his voice calming but meaningful, "the question now is to ask what was the dragon trying to achieve?"  
They fell silent, as grim thoughts invaded their minds. Of course, Bilbo thought, people tend to get imaginative in situations like these where we have very little to go on.

"Erebor has experienced firsthand the invasion of a dragon whose purpose was to seize it's coveted treasure," Thorin broke the dark silence firmly with a pointed stare at the council members. "But that was due to unforeseeable circumstances and this kingdom's close proximity to a thriving dragon territory."

Alcar, who Bilbo later learned was an aristocrat deeply involved with his kingdom's archives, nodded in agreement to the king's words.  
"Whilst it does not degrade the devastation of such an event," the Gondorian man slowly said, raising his hands in a peaceful gesture to show that he meant well, "The fall of Erebor was an _isolated_ event."

"The drakes grow restless," Lindir spoke up with his serene voice now deep and foreboding. "The Lord Elrond has communed with the Lady of Lorien. She has spoken that the drakes of Arda now sense a movement in the shadows."

"It is slight," Nolofinwë added on, his face emotionless but still somehow sincere, "Yet it nonetheless a movement."

Their words were met with a thickening of the tension, and all the hobbit could hear was the haggard breathing of the men near him- who perhaps had smoked excessively in their lifetime- and the constant scratching of Balin's quill.

Thorin, who overlooked the table, had stiffened and was attempting to hide a glowering expression by focusing on the goblet of wine in front of him (Bilbo also had a drink of the alcohol in front of him, but the hobbit was intent of steering clear of that!) Finally, the dwarf-king raised his eyes and met the stares of the group who eagerly awaited a lead.

"The Lady Lorien does not foresee all that will come to pass," he said in a dismissive fashion, and it was obvious that he was thinking of his dear kingdom and grandfather, "and so, whilst this information will not be thoroughly disregarded, it will not also be entirely taken into account until the elven lady has journeyed here and pleaded her case."

The hobbit immediately noticed the stiffening of the elves near him, and sent a mental plea to Thorin to take back his words. Lindir now soothed the emotion of outrage that was building on his companion's face, and the notion was clear to Bilbo that the elves were offended that the dwarf king would not take one such as celestial as their lady seriously.

Realising that something had to be done, and that only he could possibly get away with it, the hobbit cleared his throat. All eyes flashed quickly over to here, and the Gondorian men had wide eyes and expressions of surprise on their faces- as though they had completely forgotten that he had been with them. Feeling inferior and sightly inadequate, the hobbit stood up from his chair to add a little bit of extra height as he stared directly at the king who sat impassively awaiting his friend's words.  
"I believe that perhaps you should not disregard the Lady of Lorien's words too eagerly," Bilbo nervously spoke up; his butterflies fluttering as he heard Balin copy down what he said. "As it is common knowledge that you…ah, you're not the cosiest of friends with elves. Hm, yes, and it could easily be argued by _any _being that you simply won't want to listen to an elf's opinion."

There was a silence which left the hobbit squirming under the scrutinising glare of the king and the other delegates. He cleared his throat once more. "Yes, I'm done."

With that he sat back down and awaited the reaction. Thorin was sitting with that unnervingly emotionless expression that wise ruler's always seemed to possess- and Thorin was indeed a wise ruler, though the hobbit knew quite well that his grudges tended to cloud his decisions at times.

The men of Rohan and Gondor were surprised to see that the small Halfling had the courage to stand against the king's judgement so openly- though, of course, they did not know how well-acquainted Bilbo and Thorin were. The dwarfs of Erebor and the Blue Mountains were frowning at the situation, as they themselves were also not the greatest allies of the elves, but they saw the sense in conversing with the Lady of Lorien. The elves themselves had turned to face Bilbo, and the hobbit saw the slightest shade of respect in their features, as they were grateful that he had spoken for their honour.

Finally, Fili, who had been training in the art of politics for almost a year now, and knew how to placate his uncle if there was the smallest chance he would become offended, cleared his throat and steadily began to speak.

" Perhaps there is some sense in Master Baggins' words," he offered, and the other delegates agreed with him in the form of almost synchronised nods. "I mean, If anyone would try to undermine the court, displaying signs of racial discontent would be the easiest opportunity."

"Now isn't a time to have accusations tossed around," Kili added on, "and so heeding the elve's words would be wise.

Thorin waited for a few moments- more for the public image of not being so easily influenced by others- and then nodded in agreement. His gaze was firmly avoiding Bilbo, who felt slightly disheartened and guilty at his challenging of the king, but when a hobbit knows that something must be said, they don't hesitate to speak.

"Then we must take this into consideration," the dwarf king said, his voice unflinching and powerful, and one would never be able to tell that he had just been politically-suavely scolded by a hobbit. "A message must, however, be sent to the Lady of Lorien to inquire deeper into her words."

"The Lady of Lorien will reveal what she deems fit," Nolofinwë pressed in a quiet voice, his outrage know soothed by the dwarf's acknowledgement of his lady's words. "She may not speak any further than what we have said."

"It matters not," Thorin replied briskly, his tone implying that perhaps he had reached his limit with the elves, but he would not reveal himself publicly. "An inquiry is necessary. It is, however, now noon, and I am hungry for a meal." He rose and gestured to the others to do the same. "The Council will be adjourned in the afternoon."

The delegates rose and steadily began to file out of the door. Bilbo, who struggled to get out his chair as easily as the others- his feet could barely touch the ground when seated- shuffled awkwardly towards the edge before pushing himself off and landing smoothly. By this time, all the council members had left, aside from Thorin and the brothers.

Seeing that Bilbo was still in the room, the king swiftly waved the Durin brothers out of the door and turned towards the hobbit, who was hurriedly rushing to leave and find something to eat.

"Master Baggins," Thorin called out in a powerful voice that froze the hobbit it his movements. "Might I have a moment?"  
A smile crossed Bilbo's face. It was not a smile of happiness, nor of amusement. It was the smile of a deer who had realised that it was about to be shot and killed, and was now feeling the terror overtake it's body.

Ah, Bilbo thought to himself, I do believe that I am about to die.

With that grim thought, the hobbit turned around and walked over to the king.

* * *

**Hello all! Thank you for all of the bloody lovely reviews!**

**Sorry for the later update; real life has returned to normal with the beginning of my last year of school. So, the work load is a little more extreme :) Not to worry; I will still find time for this. **

**In this chapter, you saw some more plot development; this will be normal in the upcoming council meetings :) **

**Please review and tell me what you thought! Reviews will get you a faster update; as much as I love favourites and follows, they don't give me as much feedback as a review will! And reviews motivate the hell out of me! **


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